In Memory of My Wife, Lydia.
When I married Albina, Uncle Brigham and Aunt Clara D. honored me with
their presence at the banquet, which father provided. Uncle Brigham
told this incident:
"The first time that I spoke on the principle of plural marriage was
in the Nauvoo temple, in a room we had finished and dedicated as a
prayer-circle room. At the close of our exercises, I gave permission
for any one to ask questions. Dr. Bernhisel, who was on a visit from
Philadelphia, arose and said:
"I have heard it reported that Joseph taught, and introduced into the
Church, a principle called plural, or celestial marriage. Is it true?
If so, what is the nature of that principle?'
"I answered, 'Joseph gave us a revelation on celestial marriage, and
had Hyrum read it to the high council. Let the brethren of the high
council who heard Hyrum read the revelation, hold up their hands.'
Several hands were raised. I asked, 'Does that satisfy you that Joseph
gave the revelation ?' 'Yes,' 'Very good; now for the principle.'
"We will suppose there are three young men, just starting out on the
journey of life for themselves. They resolve that they will be farmers,
as that is a labor with which they are acquainted. One says, "I am not
going to rush things in the start; I want to enjoy life. I will put in
ten acres of grain; that will support me, and that's all I care for.'
The second one says, 'I will put in twenty acres. I can care for that
amount and not work very hard; and I want to forge ahead a little.' The
third one says, 'Boys, I want to make all that I can while I am young
and strong. I am going to plant forty acres.'
"Now, we will suppose that they keep up their fences, and properly care
for the crops. When the harvest comes, which man receives the greatest
reward? You will all answer, 'The man who planted the forty acres.'
And Joseph has told us, 'There is a decree eternal, that men shall be
rewarded according to their works.'"
I never forgot that story; and one year from that day I married Lydia
Knight, daughter of Newell Knight, who was a life-long trusted friend
of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
Lydia was a bright, cheery spirit, and I was proud of her. But in some
respects she was the very opposite of Albina. I soon found that it
required more wisdom and patience to direct the activities of two wives
than it did to direct one. Lydia was strong and firm in her spiritual
convictions and impressions, active and persistent in character. She
became an earnest Church worker in the Relief Society and Primary
Association.
For seven years we lived and worked in the Orderville United Order.
Lydia had charge of the millinery department, and she put whole souled
effort into the work entrusted to her. The members of the Orderville
Ward entered into that communal association, believing it to be a
sacred duty to do so. We came together as strangers, each handicapped
with individual weaknesses, but all imbued with an earnest desire to
overcome them. The very fact that 'we had all things common" tended to
banish selfishness, and helped us to "love our neighbor as ourselves;"
and it is a fact we became deeply attached to one another.
At the commencement of this social experiment, President Young said
to us: 'If, at any time, you run up against a problem you don't know
how to handle, come to me, and I will give you counsel;" and while he
lived, we looked to him, and he never failed us.
Soon after his death, however, a question arose which we were divided
upon. The Board of Directors sent me to Salt Lake City to lay the
matter before President Taylor, and solicit his counsel. There were
several brethren in the office when I stated the case to him. He
listened patiently, then arose from his chair, shrugged his shoulders
in a way peculiar to himself, and said:
"Brethren, I must tell you a little story. A few years ago, Horace S.
Eldredge, while acting as our emigration agent, was down in Missouri
buying cattle for our emigrants. Happening toward the close of the day
to be in a part of the country that was once owned by the Saints--and
from which they were driven by mobs--he was curious to know if any of
our people were still living there. Seeing a young man chopping wood,
he asked him if there were any Mormons living in the neighborhood. The
boy replied, 'Well, dad used to be one of those kind of fellows, but he
ain't doing much at it now days.'"
I returned to Orderville, and withdrew from the association, giving
as a reason, "If the President of the Church does not approve of our
labors, I am not willing to continue the experiment."
My withdrawal gave pain to some of my dearest friends, and was a source
of deep sorrow to Lydia. She felt that we were under obligation by the
sacred covenant of baptism (for we were all baptized into the Order) to
consecrate our lives to help bring about, and establish a social system
in which there should be "no rich and no poor;" that we could, and
should give our hearts to God, and love our neighbors as ourselves.
However, the later dissolution of the Order by the counsel of Apostle
Erastus Snow, brought Lydia back to us, and made unity once more in my
family, for which I was truly thankful.
During the period of which I am writing, a wave of brutal terrorism
flowing from the evils of the civil war, had inundated the southern
states, "compelling the best blood of the south" to organize the "Ku
Klux Klan" for self preservation. A ripple of a similar official
tyranny later reached and enveloped the Mormon people. In order to
enforce the laws enacted for the suppression of polygamy, our fair
land was filled with "spotters, spies and deputy marshals" and it is
not strange that the government in clothing with new powers so many
men of low order of morals, for only characters of that class could be
induced to trail honorable men and women for hire, should have some
officials who were cruel and unscrupulous. A case in point was enacted
when Edward Dalton of Parowan was cowardly and maliciously shot and
killed, because he was a polygamist. That act stirred up bitter feeling
in my heart. Going to Salt Lake City I consulted with my father who
advised me to go to Mexico. I next consulted with my wives. Albina
dreaded moving, and begged me to let her remain in the home at Loa, not
however through unkind feeling toward me, or the other families. On the
contrary, she urged me to take them, and go where I could live in peace
with them.
Accordingly I sold my farm, arranging so that Albina could purchase it,
and thus secure the home to herself. I then took Lydia and Tamar, with
their families, and departed for Mexico. I had one four-horse team, two
two-horse teams, and fifteen head of cows. Bishop Joseph H. Wright, and
my son-in-law, H. T. Stolworthy, each with a team, and a plural family,
accompanied me.
We left Huntington, keeping the main-traveled road for Green River,
until we reached the Iron Springs. Then, fearing that we should be
arrested at Blake, we turned, crossing the San Rafael desert to
Hanksville. We thereby came to a forty mile stretch without water,
and while crossing that waterless sand waste we encountered the worst
desert blizzard that I ever experienced. The sand drifted into the road
so furiously that it was almost impossible to move; and at the close of
a hard day's labor, we had not made over four miles progress.
Just at night a short, sharp hail storm swept over us. We camped,
blanketed our horses, cuddled into our wagons, and rested the best we
could. During the night it froze hard, which proved a blessing to us.
The next morning, at three o'clock, keeping the women and children
in bed, we pulled out. The road was as hard and smooth as the floor
of a house. For fifteen miles we sped merrily along; then the sun's
rays melted the frost, and the wagon wheels dropped into the sand
five spokes deep. We rested during the day, and broke camp again at
midnight; and by nine in the morning, reached Hanksville without any
serious suffering.
We struck the Colorado at the Dandy crossing, swam our cattle and
horses, and ferried our wagons on a small boat, paying twenty dollars
for the use of it. The journey to Mexico was long, tedious and
expensive, but we were happy, for we had escaped imprisonment.
Upon reaching Mexico, I bought fifteen acres of land, (it is now a part
of the city of Dublan) and made a home on it for Lydia; then moved
Tamar to Pacheco.
Soon after that I lost my arm in an accident, and was made a cripple
for life. I felt that with only one hand I could not successfully
compete with Mexican labor, and as the Manifesto had been issued,
giving promise that those already in plural marriage should not be
disturbed, I resolved to return to my native land.
Lydia, believing that bitterness and violence would continue to follow
us in the United States, chose to remain in Mexico. I deeded to her
the little farm; then with Tamar I returned to the United States. I
now realize that I did wrong in leaving Lydia without a husband's help
when she most needed it in caring for her young family. By nature
she was proud spirited, and ambitious to appear well. She therefore
toiled beyond her strength, which hastened her to an early grave.
She died May 8, 1905, at Dublan, Mexico. In closing, I can affirm,
conscientiously, that Lydia died a martyr for the Gospel. She was a
noble woman--and under favorable conditions would have been a leader in
Church activities. A love of the Gospel was born with her. And many of
her sorrows are traceable to her zeal in spiritual matters.
I cannot remember that there were ever disputations, or unkind jealous
feelings among my wives; they ever sustained and loved one another.
But Lydia and I differed in our interpretation of the Manifesto. She
believed it required a severance of marriage covenants between the
husband and the plural wife, while I held that it only bound the
Latter-day Saints not to enter into new, additional plural marriages,
that former plural marriages remained undissolved, and were sacred. On
that rock we parted. She remained in Mexico, while I returned to the
United States.
In my heart, I have always felt that the Father blessed me with a noble
family. I loved them; and I believed in my soul what President Young
said about the young man who planted forty acres of grain. I tried to
lay a foundation for growth and expansion in the Kingdom of God. I may
have over-taxed my strength and ability, and through lack of knowledge,
may not have cared wisely for the field I sowed, but I firmly believe
that when the day of recompense comes the Lord of the vineyard will
confirm to me the family relations I gave my best years' dearest
efforts to build up.